


Broken Wands

by smallamountsofmonster



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, Hogwarts AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallamountsofmonster/pseuds/smallamountsofmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey,” Clarke brushed dust off her robes and moved closer to her.<br/>“What are you doing here, Clarke?”<br/>“I need to talk to you.  I’ve been waiting here for ages.  Also we need to discuss why the password to the Slytherin common room is ‘Clarke Griffin is a Hufflepuff.’”  Lexa smirked at her.<br/>“It was Anya’s week to pick.”</p><p>OR: A Hogwarts AU where Clarke breaks her wand, ignores her feelings, and nearly ruins everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke was already not having a good day.  She had overslept and missed breakfast completely, forgot her Muggle Studies homework on her bed, spilled a whole jar of ink on her white shirt, and her bag ripped right down the seam in the middle of her trek down to the greenhouses, spilling her books across the grass, and sending papers flying in the wind.  Clarke was already not having a good day when Anya came striding into her Herbology lesson to excuse Lexa for emergency Quidditch practice, and as the Gryffindors in the classroom collectively seethed, something in her snapped.

All of the houses had to jump through the same hoops to book the pitch, and the fact that Slytherin was going to be allowed to skirt the rules and practice while everyone else was stuck in class was just so outrageous that Clarke’s head felt a little fuzzy, and she couldn’t remember when exactly she had knocked over the table she was sitting at and whipped out her wand to threaten the older girl, but she definitely had.

When Anya scoffed at Clarke’s cry for justice and made a comment that she was right, you know, that Gryffindor sure could use the extra practice, Clarke threw her arm out and yelled, “ _Langlock!”_

But instead of shutting Anya up as intended, the older girl dodged the spell easily and stepped in closer, bringing her fist hard into Clarke’s ribs and knocking the air from her chest.  Clarke doubled over, but brought her heel down onto Anya’s foot, and not much was clear after that as Octavia led a group of Gryffindors to battle against their classmates.  The shouts around her dulled when she was thrown back roughly, and as she spun to brace herself for landing, the edge of a table caught her hard under her ribs.  Her chest felt heavy, and she struggled to breathe from the flat of her back, staring up at the ceiling.  What sounded like a small explosion rocked the room, and Clarke heard the professor shouting for everyone to clear the room as pockets of students broke off into smaller fights and moved outside.  Clarke focused on her breathing in the quiet, and she saw Slytherin robes come into view beside her.

Lexa leaned down, knees bent, balancing on her toes.  She picked a few bits of desk off of Clarke’s robes and tilted her head.

“Are you okay?” she said softly, and Clarke closed her eyes and nodded.  This was a terrible day.  The worst day.  Nothing could salvage this day.  

“I’m fine,” Clarke breathed and didn’t open her eyes, but nodded again.  “Really, go on, it’s cool, I’m cool.”

“Your friends were escorted out,” Lexa said and Clarke snorted.  Short of throwing her over your shoulder, Octavia could not be _escorted_ anywhere.  She once broke Clarke’s nose for trying to hurry her through her breakfast because they were late for Quidditch practice.  “Do you need the hospital wing?” Lexa was looking at her with concern when Clarke finally cracked her eyes open.

“No,” she grunted, shifting to sit up.  “I’m fine,” she said mostly to herself before her hand slipped beneath her and she crashed down to her elbow.  She closed her eyes again and let out a heavy breath through her nose.  Lexa hooked an arm around her waist and hoisted her upright with surprisingly little effort.  Clarke was disoriented and trying to think of something witty to say about it when Lexa cleared her throat.

“Um.  Clarke, did you -- did you break your wand?”

“What?  Of course not, it’s right… oh no,” Clarke said, patting her ribs, where she normally kept it in an interior pocket of her robes.  “Oh god, oh no,” she muttered and scanned the debris on the floor for signs of it.  Lexa propped her up against a cabinet and disappeared beneath a table while Clarke covered her face with her hands and pushed her palms into her eyes until she saw black spots.  This was the worst day. Lexa stood slowly in front her her, holding three pieces of splintered wood and wearing a very sorry expression.  

“I think this is all of it.”

“Oh god, oh christ.”

“It’s not that bad,” Lexa said.  “There’s a clean break here, and --”

“I lost a fight, my wand is broken, and everything is terrible,” Clarke moaned into her hands.  “Just leave me to die here.”  The corners of Lexa’s mouth turned up at that, and she wrapped an arm around Clarke’s waist again, tucking her shoulder underneath her arm.  

“Let’s go,” Lexa sighed and pushed Clarke towards the door.  Clarke went with her, but muttered incoherently the entire way back to the castle.

 

\--

 

_Clarke grabbed Lexa’s sweater at the shoulder and tugged until she found the door.  She opened it quickly and shoved her inside before stepping in and muttering a locking charm under her breath.  Lexa had her arms crossed._

_“A broom closet?” she deadpanned.  “How old are we?”_

_“You are so fucking annoying.”  Clarke surged forward and pushed Lexa against the wall, capturing her lips in a rough kiss.  Lexa growled low in her chest before pushing back, and Clarke’s head hit the wall behind her with a loud thud.  Her hands wrapped around Clarke’s wrists to hold them still while she moved her mouth down to Clarke’s neck, who let out a low moan.  Lexa pushed her knee between Clarke’s thighs and grinned at her sharp intake of breath._

_“How long were you thinking about this?” Lexa said into Clarke’s neck, and the hands held tight against the wall bucked hard against her grip.  “Does losing house points to Slytherin do it for you?”  she felt Clarke clench her jaw, and she bit down on the skin just below her ear.  Clarke wrenched one hand free and pushed against one of Lexa’s shoulders, and Lexa gave in and pulled back, just enough to drop to the floor in front of her.  Clarke’s head fell back against the wall behind her as Lexa lifted her skirt, and pulled at the underwear beneath.  She lifted one leg over her shoulder and ran a hand down the outside of Clarke’s thigh._

_“No,” Clarke breathed.  “But having you on your knees does.  How long --” her words cut off as Lexa moved her mouth against her, and one hand shot out to tangle in Lexa’s hair._

_“Speechless,” Lexa whispered into her in mock awe.  “So this is how to get you to stop talking.”  Clarke tightened her grip in Lexa’s hair and gave a sharp tug in response.  Lexa made a disapproving noise and said, “I can stop.  Do you want me to stop?”  Clarke groaned and tilted her hips forward._

_“You are so fucking annoying.”_

 

\--

 

There was a pile of Gryffindors waiting in the hospital wing, but the first thing Clarke saw was Octavia stomping toward them.  There was a shadow under her left eye and a scratch on her cheek, but otherwise, she just looked angry.  Her hands made fists at her sides as she walked and she was glaring at Lexa, and Clarke just felt tired.

“I’ve got it from here,” Octavia said roughly, wedging herself beneath Clarke’s other arm.  Lexa let go of her and stepped away, expressionless.  Clarke let out a huff as she was lowered onto a mattress.  Lexa gave her a small nod and left without a word.  “What were you even doing together?” Octavia muttered in Clarke’s direction, and Clarke just shook her head.

“Ah, the star of the event arrives,” a loud and unamused voice came from the nurse’s office, and Clarke grimaced and flopped backwards onto the cot.  Abby Griffin, head of Ravenclaw house and all around completely over-present mother, strode into the main room with her hands on her hips.  “I’m not even going to ask what you were thinking, because this is outrageous.”  Clarke knew this opening.  This was Abby preparing to dive headlong into a lecture about Clarke’s consistently terrible life choices, and her inability to learn from her mistakes.  Abby shot a glare toward Octavia and the other stray Gryffindors, who had kept uncharacteristically quiet. “Go,” she said simply, curtly, absolutely.  They nodded, wrapped their hands in their robes, and meandered out into the corridor.  Octavia squeezed Clarke’s thigh on her way out, but kept her eyes on the floor.

“Your punishment will come from your head of house, of course, and you should thank Merlin that you are not in Ravenclaw,” Abby said.  

“Every day,” Clarke said from her bed.  Abby shook her head as Jackson bustled from the office behind her.

“Okay, sit up, Clarke, let’s get you sorted,” he called and watched her struggle and scoot up in the bed to lean her back against the headboard.  “Looks like broken ribs.”  He pushed his fingers lightly against her middle and chuckled when she hissed at him.  He handed her a vial.  “Drink this, you’ll be fine.”  

“Don’t think we’re done here just because you let a Slytherin break your ribs,” Abby shook her head.

“‘Course not,” Clarke said.  “Let me just get comfortable.  Jackson, do you have any snacks?”  He laughed again and retreated back into his office.  Abby launched into her rant, checking Clarke’s limbs for range of motion and running light fingers over purpled skin as she spoke.

 

\--

 

There was no one waiting for her in the corridor and her shoulders relaxed a little.  She had been stuck waiting for her ribs to mend and for her mother to stop talking, and she was feeling itchy and on edge because of it - and also because she had missed dinner.  She made her way toward the kitchens quietly, stomach growling and grumbling retorts to her mother’s lecture to the paintings that lined the walls.  She stepped through the entrance to the kitchens and sighed at the smell of baking cookies.  She wanted to curl up under a table next to one of the ovens and never leave.  A small house elf pushed a cart up to her and tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.  She shoved a piece of parchment into her hand.

“Miss Blake sent ahead,” the house elf explained and Clarke nodded.

“Thanks, Beasey.”  She tilted her head at the mountain of food Octavia had sent in for, wondering how on earth she was supposed to get it all back to the common room.  She heard a shoe scuff the floor behind her and turned to see Lexa raising an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t realize they took call-ins,” Lexa crossed her arms.  Clarke snorted.

“Don’t be jealous you didn’t think of it.”  Lexa took a few steps forward and greeted Beasey with a familiarity that surprised Clarke.  Beasey handed her a bag with a smile, and ran off to rejoin her team in their baking tasks.

“How are your ribs?” Lexa was looking off to the side, watching the teams cook with a practiced sort of indifference that Clarke was trying to find annoying.  

“They’re fine.  I don’t know what Octavia is expecting here,” she said as she worked on fitting all of the food into her bag.  Lexa chuckled, and Clarke’s head shot up to stare at her.

“Come on, then, help me,” Clarke said.  “At least carry it to the entrance hall for me, you’re walking that way anyway.”  Lexa shook her head.

“No, I’m not.”

“What do you mean, you’re not?  Are you sleeping here?  In the kitchen?”  Lexa looked uncomfortable.

“Of course I’m not.”  Clarke was staring at her.  The quiet between them stretched awkwardly.  “Fine, let’s go,” Lexa sighed, and picked up a few bags off the cart.  She set off through the corridors, walking just fast enough so that Clarke would be a few paces behind her.  

 

\--

 

“You know, your sleepovers are really lame,” Raven spun in her arm chair so that her feet were kicked over the back and her head hung upside-down off the cushion.  The Gryffindor common room was mostly empty, and they had the section in front of the fireplace claimed with mountains of blankets and pillows.  A pile of candy sat between them, and Raven was _Accio_ ’ing Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans into her mouth one at a time.  Octavia rolled her eyes.

“You’re just upset nobody thought your ghost stories were scary.”

“Okay, but that one with the slaughterhouse and the hook hands?  How was that not scary?”

“Why didn’t they just ask the ghost what he was doing?” Octavia shook her head.  “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Magic sucks,” Raven grunted.  

“Don’t, I can’t take the Misunderstood Muggleborn Pout tonight,” Octavia sighed.

“What are you even doing here, you don’t live here,” Clark said, shifting to lay down on the rug in front of the fire.  She fiddled with the tie around her neck until it hung loose.

“Are you kidding?  Professor Griffin never pays attention to us when you’ve gotten into trouble.  It’s like a Ravenclaw free-for-all whenever you do something stupid.  We have a signal for it.”  Clarke looked distraught.

“That is mortifying,” she said.

“You’re a hero,” Raven corrected.  

“Why were you with Lexa Woods at the hospital wing?” Octavia turned to Clarke fully, and Clarke shrugged.

“She helped me walk back after all of my friends were forcibly ejected from the lesson,” she said.

“What was I supposed to do, Clarke?  Thank Anya for not hexing you after she broke all of your ribs?”

“She didn’t break _all_ of my ribs,” she grumbled.  

“I was defending your honor, and you should be thankful I held back enough to not get pulled from next week’s match against Ravenclaw.”

“That was you holding back?  Professor Andrews had to hit you with a body binding curse and five people had to carry you back to the castle.”  Octavia just looked sort of proud and Raven was grinning.

“I appreciate you, O,” Raven said.  “And lucky for you dweebs, I brought the party.”  She _Accio_ ’d a bottle of firewhisky from her bag across the room while Octavia cheered and Clarke ducked before it slammed into the back of her head.

“Do you have to use that spell for everything?  Would it kill you to get up?”

“Clarke, I physically fetched everything I needed for eleven years, and six summers.  I am never getting up again.  Do you have shot glasses?  No?  I can’t believe I’m friends with you.  It’s okay.  We don’t need them.”  

 

\--

 

Her head pounded in time with her heartbeat, and every pulse sent a wave of nausea through her.  She pushed her head harder into the pillow and rolled over onto her stomach.  Her breath was hot against the cotton of her sheets and she felt it kick back at her face until she inched towards the edge of her pillow to breathe over the side.  Something hard was wedged into her hip, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.  She heard a muffled groan when she moved and a hand fell heavily onto the small of her back.  She whined and tried to shake it off because it was hot and it pushed her stomach into the mattress in a way that was altogether unpleasant, but the small movements kicked her nausea into full gear and she had to suck in deep, slow breaths to calm her stomach.

“You guys know it’s Tuesday, right?” Monroe’s voice came from the doorway.  Clarke cracked an eye open and gasped at the throb in her head.  She saw a book fly over her and hit the doorframe Monroe was standing in.  She rolled her eyes and slammed the door on her way out, and Clarke wanted to cry.

“Where am I?” Octavia’s voice sounded closer than usual.  The hand on her back pushed down as the person attached to it attempted to get up.  Clarke let out a low whimper, and the hand immediately retracted.  “Shit,” Octavia’s voice came again.  “Why are you in my bed?  Is this my bed?”  Clarke felt the blankets lift around her and heard a sigh of relief.  “Thank god you’re wearing pants.”  

“This is my bed,” Clarke groaned.  Octavia looked confused until she spotted Raven, stretched out and snoring in the bed next to them.  She made a face and stumbled out of the room without a word.  Clarke felt like maybe if she fell back to sleep quickly, she could avoid whatever talking was going to be required of her until next month when her brain returned to a reasonable size.

Octavia shuffled back into the room shortly, nursing a glass of water.  She moved to her bed and collapsed on top of Raven, who woke with a shout.  Octavia dodged a fist that was aimed at her face and moved in close, falling completely onto Raven and smothering her.  Raven moved her head back and squinted at her attacker, but seeing that it was just Octavia, she shifted over slightly in the twin bed to allow room for her, and they were quiet again.  Clarke couldn’t tell if what she did after that was sleep or not.

“Oh fuck,” Raven’s voice came some time later, loud and abrupt.  “Oh _fuck.”_ Octavia was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her eyes with a fist and pouting while Raven knocked into everything in the room, wrapping a tie around her neck and looking for her sweater.  

“You’re fine,” Octavia yawned.

“I had potions forty five minutes ago,” Raven ranted.  “Your roommate didn’t wake us up?  What kind of person is she?”  Raven was frantic.  She found her bag wedged under Clarke’s bed and raced for the door.

“Raven,” Octavia stopped her, and Raven looked exasperated.  “You’re wearing my tie.”  Raven pulled the tie off and threw it back into the room before turning and sprinting down the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room.  Octavia stretched and tugged a sweater over her wrinkled shirt.  She poked Clarke with a toe.  

“If we leave now, we’ll only be a little late to Charms,” she said.  Clarke blinked one eye at her before shoving her face back into her pillow.  Octavia reached a hand over to shake her gently, but Clarke growled at her - actually growled - and she took her hand back.  She patted her shoulder twice and left the room without another word.  Clarke was pretty sure this is what death felt like.  She waited for sleep to ease her headache, but when it became clear that it was a lost cause, she sat up slowly and reached for her clothes.  She knew she needed water, and she needed to put something in her stomach, but staggering into the Great Hall mid-morning, rumpled and hungover, was completely out of the question.  

Her descent to the kitchens was slow and painful, but at least it was quiet with most of the castle in class.  When she finally made it through the door, she gave a small smile and a wave to Beasey and fell into the closest chair she could find.  She wrapped her arms around her head and slumped down onto the table in front of her.  She felt someone place a mug down next to her softly and she thanked Beasey through her arms.

“Is Clarke Griffin cutting class?” said a voice that was decidedly not Beasey’s.  Clarke glared up from her arms.

“I cannot do this right now, Lexa,” she said.  She pulled the mug closer and wrapped herself around it.  

“You’re welcome,” Lexa nodded at the mug.  Clarke didn’t say anything, and Lexa sat on the edge of the table.

“What are you doing here?  Do you live in the kitchens?” Clarke was glaring into her mug and didn’t watch Lexa shake her head.  She took a sip and coughed, shoving it away so forcefully that it would have fallen if Lexa didn’t catch it.  “Poison, Lexa?  Really?  We’re taking this feud of ours to _murder_ now?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Lexa smirked.  “It’s a hangover remedy.  Drink it.  You look like shit.”  Clarke stared at her for a moment, torn between insulting her right back and asking her why she would want to help.  In the end, the possibility that Lexa would try to kill her was not as terrible as her hangover currently was, so she reached for the mug.  She felt her head slowly clear, and when she opened her eyes, she didn’t feel like her face was splitting open.  She blinked at Lexa, who smiled at her.  “Was that so bad?”

“You’re being weird,” Clarke said.  

“Maybe I just want you in working condition,” Lexa gave her a sort of lopsided grin, and Clarke narrowed her eyes.  “I promise it’ll be all ‘feud’ after this.  Maybe I’ll pull your hair later.”

“Is this you flirting?” Clarke laughed.  Lexa’s head tilted to the side and her grin grew.

“Do you want it to be?”

 

\--

 

_“Can we talk about this later?” Lexa said as she spread her hands across the small of Clarke’s back.  Clarke shook her head._

_“Absolutely not.”_

_Lexa had learned a few things about the girl currently sitting on top of her.  One, Clarke was immovable.  Her stubborn streak bordered on admirable, and while it made for some explosive meetings in dark classrooms and empty locker rooms, it also made talking to her a complete chore.  Two, Clarke was obnoxious - but that was mostly because she insisted on talking about everything.  And three, no matter what you were in the middle of, Clarke would stop everything to hammer home a point she thought you needed to understand.  Which is exactly how being trapped beneath the hips of a naked blonde became, unexpectedly, the last place Lexa wanted to be._

_“It’s not a big deal.  I don’t want to do this with you.”_

_“Then you shouldn’t have mentioned it.”_

_“I didn’t,” Lexa said._

_“Well, you shouldn’t have let me see it.”  Lexa made a face at her._

_“They’re just training exercises,” Lexa ran her palm down Clarke’s thigh in an attempt to soothe her._

_“They’re going to get you killed.”  Lexa smirked up at her._

_“Are you worried about me?” Clarke glared and moved to swing her leg off of her, but Lexa caught it.  “Wait, no, I’m sorry,” Lexa sighed and Clarke paused.  “I’ll be more careful.”_

_“You have to go to the hospital wing if this happens again.”  Clarke traced a jagged pink line on Lexa’s side with gentle fingers.  Lexa leaned up to press a soft kiss on her jaw, and dragged her fingers down her spine.  Clarke closed her eyes and Lexa pulled her in close so that their chests and stomachs were pressed together.  “I know what you’re doing,” Clarke breathed.  “This conversation isn’t over,” and Lexa grinned because this conversation was most definitely over for now.  She twisted her shoulder and flipped them around so that Clarke was looking up at her with very a serious expression.  Lexa just rolled her eyes._

_“I know.”_

 

\--

 

“So what drives the daughter of the head of Ravenclaw to blow off her responsibilities?” Lexa had her feet propped up on the table and was nursing a large mug of hot chocolate.  She had made herself comfortable while Clarke picked at her breakfast and avoided eye contact.

“The head of Ravenclaw,” Clarke snorted her answer, and Lexa smiled.  “And a bottle of firewhisky, and a broken wand.”  

“Those are good reasons,” Lexa nodded.  Clarke looked up at her and leaned her chin on her hand.

“What is this?” She asked.  Lexa didn’t answer, and Clarke motioned between them with her free hand.  “What is happening right now?”

“Small talk.”

“I thought we saved pleasantries for when we were less clothed.”

“We could arrange that, if you’d like.”  

“I don’t want you to start to think I like you,” Clarke shook her head.

“Unless I’m less clothed,” Lexa said.

“Exactly.”  Lexa stood up and held out a hand.

“Come on.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Lexa.  In the middle of the castle.  We’re not doing this.”  Lexa shook her hand a little.  Clarke sighed and took it, and Lexa tugged her gently towards the back of the kitchens.  “This isn’t the way out,” Clarke tugged on Lexa’s hand.  “Where are we going?”  Lexa waved to a house elf that was filling small bags of cookies on a table as they passed.  “Lexa.”

“There’s the Clarke I know,” Lexa smirked at her over her shoulder.  “I was starting to worry you had learned when to stop talking.”  Clarke pinched her upper arm and she yelped.  She pulled her to a stop in an awkward corner of the kitchen and moved aside a curtain to reveal a small door.  “Trust me?” She winked at Clarke.

“Of course I don’t.”

Lexa ducked through the doorway and Clarke followed her without pause.  She couldn’t quite stand straight in the passageway that followed, but she shuffled after Lexa quickly.  The lighting was sparse, and the walls were rough, and they walked for longer than Clarke was expecting.  When Lexa came to a stop in front of a larger door at the end of the tunnel, she motioned for Clarke to stay put, and stay quiet.  She disappeared behind the door, and Clarke waited in the dark, only slightly exasperated.  When Lexa reappeared, she grabbed Clarke’s hand again and tugged her through the door.  Whatever she was expecting to walk into, it certainly wasn’t the middle of the Slytherin common room.  

“Really?  You have a tunnel straight to the kitchens?”  Lexa grinned at her.  “Stop that.  You’re insufferable.”

The common room was not what she had pictured.  She had always sort of thought the Slytherins crawled into their dark, damp dungeons and scuttled into their respective dormitories like beetles.  But this was something else entirely. The ceilings were high, and there were large windows lining one side of the room that looked straight out into the lake.  There were more fireplaces than there were in Gryffindor, and there was a bright, if slightly green, glow over everything.  Most importantly, it was empty.  

“I know, I know,” Lexa sighed.  “But really, you should see my room.”  She turned, and obviously expected Clarke to follow.  They walked through a short hallway, down a few steps off to the right, and Lexa stopped at a door that had _“WOODS”_ etched deeply into it.  Clarke touched the letters and turned to Lexa in confusion.

“You have your own room?”

“Advantage of living in a dungeon,” Lexa explained.  “Lots of room to expand.  Prefect perk.”

“Are you telling me that we’ve been scrambling to find broom closets and empty classrooms all over this castle, and you have your _own room?”_ Lexa shrugged.  “Why would you not tell me about this?”

“You never asked.”

 

\--

 

“Where did you hide out all day?” Octavia was filling her plate at the Gryffindor table and shoving her brother’s hands away from the platter in front of her.  “Are you an animal?” she snapped at him.  He pushed her aside with his shoulder and took the serving spoon from her without a word.  Clarke was pushing her food around her plate.

“I just slept all day.  I was pretty near death this morning,” she said.

“Yeah, but where?  You weren’t in your bed.”  Clarke looked uncomfortable, but didn’t look up from her plate.  “Bellamy, I need you to back the fuck out of my personal space before I get creative with these utensils.”  Bellamy shifted a little closer to her and slung a heavy arm around her shoulders, leaning in to face Clarke.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your assists.  You’re solid all the way up the pitch, but you’re dropping focus at the Keeper.”  Bellamy looked very serious and Clarke nodded.

“I’ve been thinking about that too.  I’d actually like to call a Chaser practice for later this week,” Clarke said.  

“We were talking,” Octavia said.

“Let’s do it tomorrow.  The rest of the team could use the night off.”

“Oh,” Clarke paused.  “I um, I can’t do tomorrow.”  Bellamy put his fork down.

“Clarke.”

“No, stop it, don’t lecture me.  I just,” Clarke hesitated. “I just can’t do tomorrow.”  Bellamy was glaring at her.

“This practice schedule has been posted for a month.  Were you even going to tell me we’d be down a Chaser?”

“Of course I was,” Clarke snapped, pushing her plate away and getting up from the bench.  “I have to go.”  She was halfway out of the Great Hall before Octavia caught up to her.

“Are you pregnant?” Octavia asked bluntly, and Clarke let out a bark of laughter.  “Because if you are, I have to tell you that I disapprove of your drinking habits.”

“I am most definitely not pregnant,” Clarke laughed.

“You have to tell me what’s going on with you,” Octavia said.  “I’ll find out anyway.  Just tell me.  I can help.”

“Nothing’s going on, Octavia.  I just have detention in the greenhouses, and I need to go now.”  Octavia stopped walking and let Clarke leave her in the hall.

 

\--

 

The locker room was always a little smelly and always a little damp, but Clarke couldn’t get enough of the quiet that came after a game, after the team cleaned up and shuffled out.  Bellamy always led the team back to the common room in high spirits, whether or not they won the game, because win or lose, there was always an after party planned in Gryffindor tower.  Clarke was late, more often than not.  She liked to go over the game alone while she cleaned up after the team.  Bellamy was the team’s heart, and he was a good captain because of it.  But everyone knew Clarke was the one who made the calls on strategy, and she was fine with the quiet command she had away from the spotlight.  She was making notes in her sketchbook when she heard someone knock on the doorframe behind her.  She turned to see Lexa leaning her shoulder against the wall, hips tilted, kicking one toe into the floor.

“Hey,” Lexa smiled.  Clarke nodded a greeting and finished a few notes before she leaned back on her hands.  “You know, you’d be more effective if your Keeper stopped trying to score from his hoops and maybe let the Chasers do their job.”  Clarke snorted.

“Bellamy is immovable,” Clarke said.  “He insists that he has scored from the hoop before, and one day it will make him a hero.”

“Bellamy Blake does not sound like a team player,” Lexa said with a small smile, taking a seat next to Clarke on the bench.

“No,” Clarke agreed.  “But he does wonders for morale.”  They sat in a comfortable silence after that.  Clarke swung her legs, and Lexa reached over to pick at a grass stain on Clarke’s thigh.

“I have something for you,” Lexa said.  Clarke looked confused, and Lexa stood up to pull a wobbly looking wand from a pocket on her thigh.  Clarke stared at her.  

“Is that my wand?” Clarke asked.

“I fixed it,” Lexa shrugged.  Clarke took it from her and smiled when it didn’t fall apart.  “I um,” Lexa hesitated.  “I don’t know how well it will work.  But it does at least a little, I tried it.”  

“Why would you fix this for me?”

“You can’t go to Hogwarts without a wand, Clarke.”  Clarke stood up and pressed a soft kiss to Lexa’s lips.  Lexa smiled when she pulled away.  “And that, that might have had something to do with it.”

“Oh yeah?” Clarke gripped Lexa’s robes by the chest.  “So you’re in it for the reward?”  Lexa nodded, and Clarke tugged her toward the back of the locker room.

“Where are we going?” Lexa asked and Clarke pushed her robes off her shoulders and pulled at the hem of her sweater.

“I just won a Quidditch match,” Clarke said.  “I have to shower.”  Lexa grinned and fumbled with the buttons on her shirt as she pushed Clarke to move more quickly into the next room.  Their undressing became more frantic as they entered the closest shower stall, and Clarke was very late to this particular after party.

 

\--

 

Abby’s office was clean.  That was the only way to describe it.  In an otherwise dust covered and drafty castle, Abby Griffin kept this room absolutely pristine.  It didn’t even smell like anything.  Clarke was always a little surprised that this still struck her every time she entered the room.  She leaned against a chair across from Abby’s desk and waited for her mother to look up from her papers.  She cleared her throat and fidgeted, and picked at a loose thread on the back of the chair next to her.

“Do you want to tell me why you haven’t been using magic?” Abby said without looking up.  Clarke made a face at her.

“I haven’t not been using magic.”

“I know all of your teachers personally.”  

“I use magic all the time,” Clarke said.  “I’m in school for only magic.”  Abby finally looked up at her.  

“Which is why it is so odd and noticeable that you aren’t using magic,” she said.  Clarke held her gaze steadily and Abby sighed.  “Fine.  Let’s talk about all the magic that you _are_ using.  I heard a drawer of matchsticks exploded today during your transfiguration lesson.”

“And you assumed that I did that?”

“No,” Abby conceded.  “But Professor Harris told me you did.  Hey, do me a favor and get me that book over by the door.”  Clarke sighed and turned towards the exit before Abby stopped her.  “No, no, it’s quite heavy.   _Accio_ will do.”  Clarke glared at her, but took her wand out.  She took a breath and hesitated with her wand pointed at the book.  It’s not that her wand didn’t work, really.  It did.  It’s just that some of the time it didn’t do exactly as it was asked, and every time it hurt like a bitch.

 _“Accio,”_ she whispered.  Her eyes clamped shut at the jolt that shot up her wand arm,  and so she didn’t see the large book shoot straight up into the air and ricochet off the ceiling before crashing to the ground near her feet.  She opened one eye and turned to peer at her mother, who crossed her arms.  She sighed and sat heavily on one of the chairs.

“You broke your wand,” Abby said.

“I broke my wand,” Clarke nodded.  “It’s sort of fixed.  It’s fine.”

“Who fixed it for you?”

“Nobody,” Clarke said.  “It doesn’t matter.  It works fine.”

“Clarke, you need to have it inspected,’ Abby shook her head.  “It’s obviously not fixed.  Which one of your friends even knows where to find the spells to fix a wand?  I haven’t authorized any Ravenclaws access to those books.”

“It wasn’t Raven,” Clarke said.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“You know that it’s my job to worry about it,” Abby said as Clarke was getting up and moving towards the door.  She shoved the wand back into her robes and shook her head.

“Stop being my mother and a teacher at the same time, it’s obnoxious - you have to pick one.”  Abby gave her a look and Clarke knew she was being unnecessarily petulant, but she was still moving towards the exit, and when she closed the door behind her, and sighed.  Telling her mother about all the time she was spending with Lexa would be good for absolutely no one.  And she could definitely figure out this wand situation on her own.

 

\--

 

“What’s your full name?” Clarke murmured into the bare skin of Lexa’s back.  She traced a scar on her shoulder with a finger and Lexa hummed.

“What do you mean?” she said.  She turned just enough to look at Clarke, laying on her stomach and resting her head on one arm.  

“What is ‘Lexa’ short for?”  Clarke said.  She reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind Lexa’s ear.

“What is ‘Clarke’ short for?” Lexa teased, and Clarke tugged on the hair she had just brushed away.  “It’s not,” she said.  “It’s just Lexa.”

“Do you have a middle name?”

“No.  Why?  Do you?  Is it something weird?” Clarke jabbed her index finger into Lexa’s ribs, and Lexa curled up away from her, shielding her sides with her arms.  There was a sharp knock at the door and Clarke froze, paling.

“You’re late for practice,” Anya’s voice called through the door.   

“So are you,” Lexa called back.  Clarke was scrambling for bed sheets and pieces of clothing when the door flung open and Anya stood there, unamused and completely unsurprised.

“Holy shit,” Clarke said in a weak voice as she stumbled out of the bed and held the sheets tight around her chest.

“Would you please at least pretend to care about your responsibilities sometimes?  This is ridiculous,” Anya was saying.  She wasn’t even looking at Clarke.  Lexa rolled over and put her hands behind her head, not bothering to pull a blanket up to cover herself.  Anya gave her a look and averted her eyes to the ceiling.  

“Holy shit,” Clarke said again, scanning the floor for her clothes.

“Everyone knows what you’re doing, and we’d all appreciate it if you were a little more discreet,” Anya crossed her arms.  Clarke was forgetting how to breathe.  

“Everyone?” Lexa raised an eyebrow.

“At the very least, your immediate neighbors.  By the way, Griffin, I have a few pointers for you.  You seem to be having some trouble with a few things.”

“ _Holy shit,”_ Clarke couldn’t figure out how to exhale.  She just kept sucking in tiny puffs of air and it felt like her lungs might burst.  Lexa smirked at Anya.

“She’s fine,” Lexa said.

“She’s an idiot, and you have Quidditch practice.  Put some pants on,” Anya snapped and turned on her heel.  She slammed the door behind her and Lexa propped herself up on an elbow to look back at Clarke, who was quietly hyperventilating behind the bed.  Lexa tilted her head.

“Are you okay?”  Clarke shook her head, and Lexa sat up.  “Okay.  It’s fine.  Anya’s just an asshole.  She didn’t mean that thing about the pointers.  That’s how she reaches out.”

“How many people know about this?”  Clarke finally let out a shaky breath.

“What?  I don’t know.  Probably a few.  Not many.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke shut her eyes and sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees.  Lexa looked disappointed.

“It’s that bad that people know about us?”

“There is no ‘us,’ Lexa,” Clarke snapped.  Lexa blinked at the severity of her voice.  Clarke was groping around under the bed for clothes and pulling on pieces as she found them.  “We aren’t a _we,_ we’re not an _us,”_ Clarke was saying into her floor.

“Okay,” Lexa was pursing her lips.  “Fine, we’re not a ‘we.’  We’re not an anything.”  Clarke paused for a moment, but didn’t look up at her, and then continued getting dressed.  “It’s just, you know, a little hard to not take that look of complete horror on your face personally.”

“Come on, Lexa, don’t pretend having all of your friends find out you’re fucking a Gryffindor is high up on your list,” Clarke said.

“My friends don’t care who I’m _fucking._  Why do you Gryffindors care so much about what people think of you?”

“Don’t ‘you Gryffindors’ me.”

“Were you always so afraid of what people might assume about you, Clarke?  Are you afraid your mom might find out you’re _fucking_ a Slytherin?  Or that you’re fucking a girl?”  Clarke stopped with her white shirt pulled halfway over her shoulders.

“We’re not doing this,” Clarke said to her.

“I think we are,” Lexa said.  Clarke grabbed the rest of her clothes and balled them up in her arms as she turned towards the door.  “You’re leaving like that? That’s really low key, Clarke, really discreet.  Nobody will know what you’ve been doing all day.”  Clarke was glaring at her as she flung the door open and stomped out.

“Fuck you,” she growled.  She marched through the Slytherin common room with her chin high and didn’t look at any of the students who had stopped what they were doing to stare at her.  She walked directly to the tunnel to the kitchens and left without a word.  If she had turned back, she would have seen Lexa standing in her doorway with a sheet wrapped around her and a scowl on her face.

 

\--

 

Clarke tossed her slightly crooked wand onto her mother’s desk and crossed her arms.  Abby raised her eyebrows and waited, and Clarke made a show of rolling her eyes and sighing.  Abby picked up the wand and held it up closer to her face to examine it.

“My wand is broken,” Clarke said, and Abby snorted.  “I need a new wand.”

“Yes, you do,” Abby said.  “So who helped you?”

“Nobody.  I fixed it.” Abby didn’t say anything.  “Is it completely out of the realm of possibility that I could fix it?”

“It’s pretty advanced magic, Clarke.”

“Your faith in me is truly stunning,” Clarke said.  “Fine.  Lexa goddamn Woods.  She fixed it.”  Abby looked surprised, and Clarke felt a surge of something she couldn’t quite place.

“Lexa Woods, the Slytherin Seeker?  Didn’t you just serve a week of detention for sabotaging her Pepper-Up Potion in class?  Yes, that was definitely her.  The top of her head smoked for two days, and it took three different counter potions to stop her eyes from tearing.”  Clarke fought a grin.  “That Lexa Woods fixed your wand?”

“Yes,” Clarke said.  “But not enough, and I need a new one.”

“I heard a few whispers about some out-of-bounds student drama in the Slytherin common room.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”  Clarke stared at her mother evenly.

“No.”

“Because you know, as a member of the Hogwarts staff, it wouldn’t be my particular place to dole out punishment if said student wasn’t in Ravenclaw,” Abby tried to sound light.

“I have no idea if the student was in Ravenclaw,” Clarke said, and they were quiet until Abby shook her head and sighed.

“Clear your plans on Saturday.”

“Excuse me?  You can’t punish me for whispers,” Clarke gasped.

“Your wand, Clarke.  You need a new wand.”

“Oh.  Yes.  Okay, fine.”

 

\--

 

Lexa hopped out of the common room on one foot as she adjusted her boot, trying to keep hold of the bag on her shoulder and the broomstick under her arm, but she came to a complete stop when she saw Clarke scrambling to her feet from behind a statue in the corridor.  She didn’t greet her, but she cleared her throat and waited, kicking at the leg of her pants with one foot.

“Hey,” Clarke brushed dust off her robes and moved closer to her.

“What are you doing here, Clarke?”

“I need to talk to you.  I’ve been waiting here for ages.  Also we need to discuss why the password to the Slytherin common room is ‘Clarke Griffin is a Hufflepuff.’”  Lexa smirked at her.

“It was Anya’s week to pick.”

“God, I hate Slytherin,” Clarke grumbled.  “Come with me.”  She didn’t wait for Lexa before she turned on her heel and marched away.  Lexa squinted at her back for a second before bounding after her.  She grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a stop.

“No.  I’m busy.  What do you need?”

“I’m not doing this here,” Clarke said.  She gestured to her left at a group of students wearing green ties.  “I’m surrounded.”

“You didn’t have to stalk me in the dungeons.”

“You’re avoiding me,” Clarke said.

“I most certainly am not.”

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of your head for two days.”

“As opposed to what?  The top of it?”  

“Okay,” Clarke nodded.  “I deserve that.”

“I’m not going to just fall on my knees and lift your skirt every time you come looking for it,” Lexa snapped at her, and Clarke’s eyes went wide.  She glanced over her shoulder at a nearby group of students and grabbed Lexa’s robes at the shoulder to drag her farther down the hallway.

“I get it, I’m an asshole,” Clarke bristled.  “Would you let me fucking apologize for it, or do you need some more time to pout?”  Lexa wrenched her arm free of Clarke’s grasp.

“Don’t patronize me, Clarke,” Lexa growled.  “And you are an asshole.  Good to know you’re okay with certain labels.”  

“That’s not fair,” Clarke said.  “You know that’s not fair.”

“It’s not my job to be nice to you,” Lexa said as she turned to leave, and Clarke let her walk down the corridor alone.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Clarke called after her.  A few Slytherins were watching her.  “I’m sorry,” she called again.  Lexa didn’t turn around.  Clarke sighed, shoved her hands in her pockets, and made her way back up to Gryffindor tower.

 

\--

 

Raven and Octavia were sitting on Clarke’s bed with their legs crossed, each holding a package and wearing a grim expression.  Clarke stopped in the doorway and sighed.  She was in a terrible mood from her most recent interaction with Lexa, and she sulked the whole walk from the dungeons.  A few paintings had called words of encouragement out to her, but she just felt more annoyed that no one in this whole castle seemed to be able to mind their own business.

“What did I do this time?” she asked.  “Is it the blazer I borrowed from O and lost in Hogsmeade?”  Octavia’s mouth dropped open.

“You lost my blazer?”

“No.”

“This is an intervention,” Raven interrupted formally.  “We love you, Clarke, and we will support you even through the destructive decisions you can’t stop making.  However, we would prefer it if you stopped.”

“What’s in the packages?” Clarke sat heavily on Octavia’s bed.

“Chocolate,” Octavia said.

“Booze,” Raven said.

“Gimme,” Clarke said.  Clarke took a long pull from the bottle Raven handed her and let out a rough breath between her teeth.

“Item number one: Mysterious disappearances,” Octavia had pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket.

“Item number two: Avoiding your best friends,” Raven leaned over Octavia’s shoulder to read.

“Item number three: You suck at magic.”

“Ouch,” Clarke grimaced.  “That’s a little harsh.”

“Two days ago, you set your bed on fire,” Octavia pointed out, and Clarke paused and just nodded.  “Item number four: You’ve been late to the last seven Quidditch practices.  Item number five -”

“ _Okay,”_ Clarke held her hands up.  “I get it.  Give me the chocolate.”  Octavia handed it over.  

“So tell us what the hell is wrong with you,” Octavia said, and Raven elbowed her.

“That’s not the order,” Raven said.  “We have to ease her into it.”  She turned back to Clarke.  “We love and support you, but you have to realize that there are consequences to your decisions,” she said gently.  

“I’m not a small child, Raven,” Clarke scowled.  Raven snatched the chocolate out of her hands and threw it onto the floor across the room.  “Hey!”

“You want big girl pants treatment, you got it,” Raven said.  Octavia looked thrilled.  “Just tell us what the fuck is wrong with you and we can get drunk and cry about it like adults.”  

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with me.”

“So normally functioning, completely sane Clarke Griffin would make the decision to march naked through the Slytherin common room in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday?  That’s something sane Clarke would do?”  Clarke blushed.

“I wasn’t naked,” she grumbled.

“You were naked enough,” Octavia chuckled.  “Just say the words, say you’re sleeping with the enemy.”

“Lexa isn’t the enemy.”  Octavia’s hand shot out to grip Raven’s shoulder.

“Oh god,” she said.  “There are feelings.  Clarke, are you feeling feelings?”

“Does everyone know about the naked march?”  Octavia and Raven both nodded sagely.  Clarke sighed and grabbed the bottle of firewhisky Raven had supplied.  “I might feel a few feelings,” she whispered into the mouth of the bottle.  Octavia moved to sit next to her, and put an arm around her waist.

“Your emotional expression tends to manifest in interesting ways,” she said gently.

“You’re not super clear,” Raven nodded.

“Have you ruined it yet?” Octavia asked as she took a drink from the bottle in Clarke’s hands.  Clarke nodded.  

“Yeah,” she breathed.  “I have.”

 

\--

 

The kitchens were quieter than usual.  It was just after dinner, and the usual flurry of movement was dulled, only a few house elves still there to bake desserts and start their prep for breakfast.  Clarke moved through the maze of ovens and countertops, giving short greetings to familiar faces, but never staying long enough to chat.  When she finally found what she was looking for, she took a breath and sat down in an empty chair.  Lexa was curled into a ball on her own chair, arms resting on the table and covering her face.  Clarke could see her taking slow, deep breaths as she pushed a mug of hot chocolate across the table to her.  Lexa didn’t look up.

“I knew it,” Clarke whispered to her.  “I knew you slept here.”  Lexa picked her head up and leaned her chin on her arm.  She didn’t smile, and Clarke swallowed.  “You don’t have to talk to me,” Clarke said.  She picked her feet up to so that her thighs pressed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

“You’re kind of a dick,” Lexa said, and Clarke nodded.  

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said again.  They fell into silence again.  Clarke had intended to keep quiet and let Lexa deal with the situation however she needed to, but that goal didn’t last long.  “I sort of panicked,” Clarke said.  “It’s just that, you know, sometimes you do these things and we have these moments where I forget that it’s you - you know - because you’re such a jerk normally.”

“You’re really good at apologies.”

“Don’t fight with me when I’m trying to be emotionally available,” Clarke said, and Lexa stayed quiet enough for her to continue.  “I didn’t like it when you implied I wasn’t okay with my sexuality.”

“I didn’t like it when you implied dating me would be like dating a sea monster.”

“I didn’t imply that,” Clarke said.  “Sea monsters are probably lovely.”  Lexa made a face at her.  “Is that what this was?  Were we dating?”

“No,” Lexa sighed.  “This wasn’t dating.”

“I’m sorry that I made you feel like I was ashamed of you,” Clarke said.  “Octavia says that my emotional expression is stunted.”

“Octavia is smarter than I have given her credit for.”

“Octavia also says that I may have behaved this way because I was afraid of feeling.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Clarke said.

“Yeah,” Lexa sighed.  “It kind of blows.”  Clarke hesitated, brow furrowing.

“Was that an admission?” Clarke asked.  “Do you have one or two feelings too?”  

“I’ve been in this for a while, Clarke,” Lexa said.  “I’ve been waiting to see if you’d catch up.”  They were both quiet again.  Clarke cleared her throat.

“So, um,” she started.  “If we were to go back to your room,” she paused and Lexa raised an eyebrow at her.  “On a scale of one to Mandrake, how annoying will Anya be?”

“It cannot be measured,” Lexa answered seriously.

“You need to move.”

“It’s how she shows her love.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

****“There was no need to call in my head of house, is all I’m saying.”

It was, in fact, all Octavia was saying.  She was laid out on the floor between their beds, arms flung out, staring up at the ceiling.  She had been whimpering for one whole hour about her punishment, and its escalation, and Clarke could do little more than hum her agreement.  Raven was perched on Octavia’s bed, tinkering with Clarke’s broken wand, and hadn’t said a word in over forty minutes.

“It’s just, you know, it’s like Gryffindor has a target on its back.  They just assume we’re at fault.”

“I know, honey,” Clarke nodded.

“It’s not like I go looking for fights.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Woods didn’t need to pull in staff,” Octavia shot a glare Clarke’s way and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Shouldn’t we have more sway with the Head Girl?” she asked.  Pointedly.  Clarke sighed.

“You know her job always comes first.”

“She has to know how unfair this year has been.  Don’t you talk at all?  Shouldn’t she be on your side?”

“We talk sometimes,” Clarke said, and Raven snorted.  Clarke glared at her, but the effect didn’t really land, because Raven wasn’t even pretending to pay attention.  “Rules are very important to Lexa.”

“Yeah, well, equality certainly isn’t.  Gryffindor has been blamed for everything that has gone wrong in this whole castle for the last month.  How could we even be responsible for the crater that was blown in Ravenclaw’s tower?”  Raven’s eyes widened a little, but she continued to stare down at the wand in her lap.  “You know,” Octavia continued, “there are some people who think you got intentionally passed over for Head Girl, Griffin.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.  Lexa has practically had the job since first year.”

“You’ve been a prefect just as long.  You’re just as qualified.”

“I got caught charming Hufflepuff’s practice quaffles to explode in our third year.”

“That was mostly Bellamy,” Octavia waved a hand.  “Hogwarts deserves a Head Girl who prioritizes students over outdated and sexist rules.”

“I don’t think a rule is sexist just because you’re not allowed in the Hufflepuff boys dormitories after midnight.  You shouldn’t even be out anywhere after midnight,” Clarke said.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say, Ms. I Slink Into My Girlfriend’s Cave Four Nights A Week.  What a hypocrite, by the way.”

“She doesn’t live in a cave.”

“Sure.  And you know, Hufflepuff doesn’t even really have overnight policies.”

“Gryffindor does.”

“Exactly why you need to pull us into this century.”  Clarke rolled her eyes, but Raven made a noise that sounded like agreement and looked up from the wand.

“O’s got a point,” she said, stretching her neck to the side and shrugging one shoulder to work herself out of her hunched position.  “She’s too literal.  No humanity.”  Octavia pointed one finger across at Raven and threw her other hand in the air, nodding quickly.  Clarke crossed her arms and huffed.  Lexa _could_ be a little harsh, and it’s not like Clarke had never fought with her over it.  It was actually the base of their relationship - but usurping her as Head Girl was ridiculous.  Clarke would never have the staff support Lexa had, and what good is the title if all you’re doing is yelling at a wall?

“Oh,” Octavia said, and cleared her throat as she sat up and dug into the pocket of her robe.  “I, uh, was told to give you this.”  She tossed a crumpled bit of parchment into Clarke’s lap, who sighed as she unfolded it.

_Dear Ms. Griffin,_

_Due to a persistent lack of discipline within educational spaces, Gryffindor is hereby disqualified from this year’s Quidditch Cup.  Current members of   Gryffindor’s team may continue to use Hogwarts’ facilities for recreational purposes only.  An official announcement will be made at dinner tomorrow._

_Best,_

_Headmaster Jaha_

Clarke felt her stomach drop, eyes wide, staring down at the wrinkled parchment with so many feelings that they circled back around to cancel each other out so that she was left with... nothing.  She was left with nothing.

“ _Clarke,”_ Octavia was leaning towards her with concern, and Clarke had no idea how long she’d be trying to get her attention.  “What is it?”

“You didn’t read this?” Clarke said finally.

“No,” Octavia shook her head, “it was charmed.”

“I have to go,” Clarke muttered, grabbing her bag from under Raven’s feet and tugging, causing Raven to topple and the wand in her lap to spark.  Clarke was out the door before Raven yelped and Octavia started yelling.

\---

“You left Gryffindor to drown,” Clarke threw her bag on the ground just inside of Lexa’s room, kicking the door closed behind her and crossing her arms.  Lexa sat up on her bed and sighed, leaning her elbows on her thighs.

“What would you have me do, Clarke?  Gryffindor set loose hundreds of snakes in that classroom, and Blake punched a professor.”

“They weren’t poisonous snakes,” Clarke lifted her chin and glared.

“They trampled three first years.  They are still in the hospital wing.”

“You can’t be trampled by a snake,” Clarke scoffed.

“And Blake?”

Clarke shifted and tightened her arms across her body.  “I can’t speak for Octavia.”

“My influence as Head Girl only extends so far,” Lexa sighed, and - okay - Clarke wasn’t stupid.  She knew Lexa’s power as Head Girl was mostly restricted to disciplining unruly twelve year olds and coordinating Prefect schedules, but Lexa was _different._ Lexa had convinced the professors that her ideas were worth listening to, and despite how little Clarke would like to admit it, everything was running a lot more smoothly since her appointment.  Communication was open between staff and students, Hogsmeade weekends were extended to younger students with a volunteer Prefect chaperone, and overall, disciplinary action seemed to be decreasing.  Well, except for Gryffindor.

Clarke shook her head and held the crumpled note out to Lexa in her fist.

“Did you know?” Lexa’s jaw clenched and she looked a little hesitant.

“Gryffindor has had repeated warnings,” she said, and Clarke couldn’t believe that she was still standing by the door.  She deserved a medal.  They should reinstate Gryffindor Quidditch purely because Clarke Griffin had enough goddamn self control to not punch her girlfriend in the kidney.

“So yes,” she said instead of punching.  “So you knew we’d be disqualified.”

“I don’t know what you expect from me,” Lexa finally snapped.  “I’m not the one who keeps setting fire to the second floor corridor.”

“That isn’t us!”  At least, Clarke didn’t think it was them.  “You could have done more.  You could have done _something._ I could have, if I was Head Girl.”  Lexa snorted.

“If you were Head Girl, I don’t even want to think about Octavia Blake’s reign of destruction,” Lexa said before her eyes widened slightly and she seemed to realize what she said.  Clarke stomped towards her, throwing the note at her chest.

“You don’t think I could handle it?” She said, jabbing a finger into Lexa’s shoulder.

“Clarke,” Lexa shook her head, “there is more to leadership than fighting for what you want.”

“Because I could _handle_ it, Lexa.”

“You possess great qualities,” she continued.  “If Head Girl was instinct alone, you’d have it.  But you overlook _duty._ ”

Clarke took a step closer, jabbing Lexa’s shoulder again hard enough to make her take a step back.  “Don’t lecture me on duty, Woods.  You have a duty to represent all houses.  How do you think your inter-house balance is going to be affected when Gryffindor finds out tomorrow that they’ve been disqualified from the only thing keeping them in line?”  Lexa’s face flinched, and then blanked at the use of her last name, and Clarke watched her throat bob as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders.

“I would think that a leader such as yourself would be able to manage such an event,” she said quietly, and Clarke felt her arm tense and had to breathe deeply through her nose to control herself from strangling the girl across from her.  Lexa’s stare was steady, and she had lifted her chin slightly so she could look down her nose.  Actually look down her nose.  This girl was infuriating - and so goddamn attractive that it made Clarke mad even when they weren’t fighting.  So she wasn’t in great shape.

Lexa didn’t even flinch when her bedroom door crashed open and Anya appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip.

“We have discussed this, Lexa,” Anya growled, and neither girl looked up at her.  “Restrictions must be enforced.  Get your Gryffindor under control, and stop setting an irresponsible example.”

“ _Your_ Gryffindor?” Clarke raised an eyebrow at Lexa, who didn’t look even a little sorry.

“Someone has to take responsibility for your presence,” she said calmly.  “You are not a Slytherin.”

“You have an unsecured entrance.  That you _showed_ me without prompting.”

“A decision we are all paying for,” Anya grunted.

“Shut up, Anya,” both Clarke and Lexa snapped at the same time.  Lexa shook her head and continued, “Your use of the kitchen entrance is not appreciated by all.”

“Why would you even _have_ an unsecured entrance?”

“You can’t be a Slytherin if you don’t understand loopholes,” Anya said, still in the doorway.  Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Gryffindor deserves representation.  I will not be responsible for the consequences that come from blatantly disregarding an entire house.”

Lexa pursed her lips and her jaw ticked from one side to the other.  “Then you are not the leader you claim to be.”

“Fuck you, Lexa,” Clarke spat as she turned on her heel.  She grabbed her bag from the doorway and smashed her shoulder into Anya’s on her way out - which didn’t really work out for her, because apparently Anya was a brick wall in a past life.  Anya let out a puff of air that Clarke was choosing to believe was not a laugh, and as the Slytherin common room door slammed behind her, she was already working her way through a list of faculty who could be swayed towards her cause.

\---

Clarke had almost reached the top of the stairs when she felt them rumble beneath her, and she had to push off from the railing and leap onto the landing before they shifted direction completely.  This was the third time they had caught her unprepared this week alone, and she was mostly convinced that even the damn castle was out for Gryffindor blood.  She was coming off four back-to-back meetings with various faculty members, where she failed spectacularly to convince them that Gryffindor was the victim of an organized and ruthless plot to undermine them, and she was exhausted.

_‘Ms. Griffin, there are three barely contained fires still burning in my classroom from Octavia Blake’s most recent victimization,’_ the exasperated Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had sighed.  And okay, granted, maybe asking for their support so soon after the snake incident had been a miscalculation.

She shook her head and set off towards the common room, but stopped short when she saw Raven leaned up against the portrait hole, murmuring something into the frame and running one finger across the canvas gently.  Clarke’s brow furrowed as she tried to decide on just one joke to enter with, but Raven let out a huff and pushed off from the wall abruptly to cross her arms and glare at the painting.

“How dare you?” she spat at it.  She turned to Clarke as she approached and gestured angrily at the wall.  “Where’s your tiny knight?” she grumbled.  “He appreciates my charm.”

“That’s because you’re both petulant children.  It is no wonder you get along,” the Fat Lady scowled at her from her frame.  “No password, no entrance.  I know which house you belong to, Reyes.”

“You should actually feel honored,” Clarke grinned.  “She never remembers names.”

“She absolutely should not,” the Fat Lady turned her scowl towards Clarke.

“What’s my name?” She said, and the Fat Lady’s glare intensified.

“Excuse me, young lady, if I have other things to concern myself with,” she was getting a little shrill, and Clarke snorted.

“Are we sure antagonizing the entrance to your home is a good idea, Griff?”

“Please,” Clarke waved her hand.  “ _Futuere_ ,” she said to the Fat Lady, and looked confused when nothing happened.  “ _Futuere_ ,” she said again, a little louder.  The Fat Lady crossed her arms and smirked.  “You have to let me in if I say the password.”

“Yes,” The Fat Lady agreed.  “I am waiting to hear it.”

“This is bullshit,” Clarke shouted.  “The password has not changed since this morning.”  The three stood, silent, fuming, until a group of first years wandered up to the portrait, slow and hesitant to get involved in whatever was happening.

“Um,” one of the first years cleared their throat.  “ _Futuere_.”  The portrait hole swung open immediately, and Clarke let out a sharp cry at the injustice.  She moved to blend in with the group, but the frame slammed into her side before she could clear the entrance.  She threw her hand out to grip one of the kids’ robes at the shoulder and growled, “tell Octavia,” before the portrait closed completely and she had to pull her arm back against herself before she lost it.

“You’re unbelievable,” she huffed at the Fat Lady before she turned to stomp down the corridor.

“Hey,” Raven called, skipping a little to keep up with her.  “Is your password seriously ‘get fucked’ in Latin?”

“Yeah,” Clarke sighed.  “Octavia won a bet.”

\---

The grass of the Quidditch pitch was just slightly wet, and a breeze swung through the stands that made Clarke wish she had swiped the robe off that first year’s back before she had been locked out of her own house.  Raven was leaning back on her elbows in the middle of the pitch with an open bottle of gin between her knees, trying to balance Clarke’s old wand on the tip of her nose - with more success than Clarke expected, honestly.

“Where do you keep getting all this liquor?”

“Divination detention,” Raven said, eyes crossed and head tipped back, totally focused on the wand on her face.  “Behind all these dusty sherry bottles, bam!” The wand shot off a few sparks as it hit the grass beside her.  “Gin.”

“I hate gin,” Clarke grimaced, grabbing the bottle from her legs and taking a quick pull.  She eyed the sputtering wand on the ground across from her.  “Should that really be so close to your face?”  Raven shrugged.

“So this is where you’ve skulked off to,” Octavia’s voice came from the side of the field as she marched towards them from the stands.  

“I’ve never skulked in my life,” Raven said.

“I was talking to Clarke.”

“Oh.”

“Shut up,” Clarke grumbled, wrapping both hands around the gin bottle and hunching over it.  Octavia flopped down beside her and grabbed at the bottle.  Clarke shoved at her shoulder and turned away to bodyblock the bottle.

“You hate gin,” Octavia argued.

“I really do,” Clarke took another sip and handed the bottle over.

“You could have told that kid where you’d be,” Octavia sighed.  “What _did_ you say to them, anyway?  They were shaking when they found me.  Actually shaking.”

“First years are dramatic.”

“She grabbed their robes in her fist and growled,” Raven said, holding the broken wand to her nose again with just her two index fingers.

“Clarke.”

“I’ve been _exiled,_ Octavia.  The Fat Lady is being such an asshole.”

“Change your clothes, she won’t know who you are in an hour.”

“Everyone knows who I am,” Clarke grumbled.  Next to her, Raven’s face started smoking.  “Raven, I don’t know how to fix your face if it melts off.”  Raven let the wand drop from her nose, which let out a loud _bang_ as it hit the grass and shot across the field on its own.

“I thought you were fixing that,” Octavia said, and Raven nodded.

“I am.  I have.  It’s fluid,” she said seriously.

“The only thing it does is explode.”

“Listen,” Raven shook her head.  “I’ve got it.  I’ve found a new workshop that is made for this, I’ve got it under control.”

“I’m pretty sure the Room of Requirement doesn’t exist for you to set fires,” Clarke said.

“Uh, it exists for whatever I _require_ of it.  It’s in the name,” Raven pointed a finger across at her.  “Wand magic is incredible nuanced, and the room has recognized my genius.”

“Yeah, Clarke,” Octavia was nodding solemnly.  “The room has recognized her.  Hey, maybe you can show me a few things that you’re working on?”  Clarke was grinning as she swiped the bottle from Octavia’s hand.

“I’m not showing you where it is, O,” Raven smirked.

“Why!” Octavia shouted, throwing a handful of grass at her.  “Why won’t you _share?”_

“You leave devastation in your wake,” Raven laughed.  “No way am I calling all that attention to myself.  Speaking of which, keep up the good work, sport.  I haven’t had more than three detentions in weeks.”  Clarke felt her mood plummet, and she watched Octavia’s face darken as well.

“Gryffindor’s persecution isn’t a joke, Raven,” Octavia said.  

“Let’s play my drinking game,” Raven waved a hand at them.  

“No one can keep track of your rules,” Clarke shook her head.  “And also, O’s right.  This is a real issue.”

“Did you talk to your girlfriend about,” Octavia waved her hands in front of her noncommittally, “everything?”  Clarke made a face, and Octavia fell back into the grass with a huff.  “This is shit, Clarke,” she said to the sky.

“Drink!” Raven shouted as she grabbed the bottle of gin and took a gulp.

“Um,” Clarke picked at the grass in front of her and took a deep breath.  “There’s more, actually.  We’ve - ah.  We’ve been disqualified from the Quidditch cup.”  Octavia sat up, smoothly, calmly, her face was blank, and Clarke wasn’t sure anyone except for Raven was breathing.  Raven, though, did reach her arm out to offer her bottle of gin to Octavia, and then Clarke, and then took it back when nobody acknowledged her.

“No,” Octavia said.  And, well.  Okay.  

“I’m working on it,” Clarke said.

“Work harder, Clarke.”

“‘Harder,’” Raven repeated.  “Drink.”

“I don’t know what you expect from me,” Clarke said.  “I don’t have more sway because I’m sleeping with the Head Girl.”  Raven shouted ‘head’ and ‘drink’ again, and Clarke really had no idea if this game even had rules, or if Raven just liked shouting.  “You know Lexa.”  Octavia leaned forward with a serious expression.

“Gryffindor is prepared to back you,” she said quietly.  “We’ll give you the power, you give us a voice.”  Clarke grit her teeth together and swallowed, and her chest felt a little tighter than usual.

“You want me to stage a coup,” she clarified.

“Your hand,” Raven pointed at Clarke and then leaned in far enough to flick her nose.  “It dropped below your waist - drink!”

“We want a say in how we are managed,” Octavia corrected.  “No coup necessary.”

“Lexa is my girlfriend.”

“ _Lexa_ needs to start taking our complaints more seriously.”  Clarke huffed, because she didn’t really disagree.  Lexa did need to take this more seriously.  They were scapegoats, it was clear to everyone in Gryffindor, but Lexa wasn’t the kind of girlfriend to offer unearned solutions.  She was about to launch into a deeply thoughtful explanation of their relationship dynamic, but Raven was shouting again, and suddenly, they had a lot less gin on their hands.  Raven was grinning at them when they finally took a breath and looked over at her, and her eyes were wide and slightly out of focus.

“How much did you just drink?” Clarke leaned in to check the bottle at her side, and Raven wobbled and made a show of blowing Clarke’s hair out of her face.  She picked up a now empty bottle of gin and shook it in front of her.

“Rude,” Octavia said.  Raven pouted a little, but grinned again as she struggled to her feet and stumbled off through the field to look for the wand that had made a break for freedom earlier.  She was mumbling to herself and every now and then would stoop over and pick through blades of grass for some sign of it.

“Seriously,” Octavia said to Clarke as they kept an eye on their surprisingly drunk friend.  “Think about it.”

“I’m not interested,” Clarke shook her head.  “I can fix this without coup’ing the current Head Girl.”

“Head!” Raven shouted from across the pitch.  Clarke sighed.

\---

“Watch it,” Octavia grunted as the weight in her arms shifted and pushed her shoulder hard into the wall.

“She’s heavy,” Clarke groaned.  Raven was a puddle of dead weight between them, and when she grumbled something that sounded petulant and kicked out, Clarke dropped her arms from the girl’s waist and huffed.  

“We’re almost there,” Octavia said.  “Come on.  Someone will hear us.”

“It’s fine,” Clarke shook her head.  “According to you, I’m practically Head Girl.  We won’t get caught.”

“Except you’re not yet,” Octavia shrugged Raven higher up onto her shoulder.  “You’re not Head Girl, and we need to get our friend home before you lose us even more house points this week.”

“She’s your friend.”

“Clarke.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and moved back to help, even though it was completely unfair that Octavia would place all of the house points blame on her, considering her recent string of terrible decisions.  It wasn’t even Clarke’s idea to rig the Slytherin locker room showers to exclusively pipe out glitter instead of water after their last match - in fact, she’s pretty sure it was Octavia’s.  Clarke shouldered the punishment because she was their captain, and if either of their beaters had been implicated, they would have been officially removed from the team.  It was fucking selfless.  Not that it mattered a whole lot now.

“Fine,” Clarke grumbled, wrapping an arm around Raven’s waist and ducking under a fist that flew towards her face.  Raven stood up a little straighter and tipped over to the side, pressing hard into Clarke’s side and causing all three of them to stumble.

“I’m everybody’s friend,” Raven mumbled into Clarke’s neck and spitting out the blonde hair that she pushed her mouth into.  They made it ten more steps before they heard a scuff from around the corner, and Octavia and Clarke froze, causing Raven to pitch forward a bit, but they managed to keep her upright.  Octavia sent a panicked look Clarke’s way, but Clarke was busy scanning the corridor for an escape hatch.  The scuffing was getting closer, and really, the only thing Clarke could do was accept her fate.  They probably wouldn’t expel her, as the daughter of a school official.  Right?

Lexa appeared from around the corner and froze in front of them with wide eyes.  Octavia let out a sigh of relief.  

“Thank god it’s you,” she said.  “Let’s go, Clarke.”  Clarke was staring at Lexa, though, who hadn’t moved an inch.  Octavia shrugged Raven forward to push Clarke into action.

“We almost have her back,” Clarke said to Lexa, and Octavia closed her eyes at the pleading tone, defeated.  

“It’s after curfew,” Lexa said quietly.  

“Yes,” Clarke nodded.  The hall went silent, except for Raven’s slightly labored breathing.  “We almost have her back.”

“Lexa,” Raven was just noticing her arrival, grinning and squinting.  “Lexa, okay, listen, you’ve gotta listen.  Clarke’s wand,” she broke away from the girls supporting her to dig into her pocket, listing heavily to the side.  Clarke propped her up with a shoulder.  “You started, s’not bad.  But listen, look’it.”  She held the wand out unsteadily, and Lexa looked genuinely interested at the progress Raven was making.

“Is it consistent?” Lexa asked, reaching a finger out to touch the wand gently.  It vibrated in Raven’s hand.  Raven shook her head.  

“Stopped shocking me, though.”  Lexa hummed, totally focused on the cracks still showing along the wand’s surface.

“D’you think we could do this later?” Octavia groaned.  “Raven looks smaller than she feels.”  Raven huffed and flicked one finger against Octavia’s cheek.  Lexa straightened up and cleared her throat.

“You really shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said to them, and Clarke rolled her eyes.  This is exactly what Clarke did not need tonight.  Running into her girlfriend after having a fight about maturity and leadership, holding Raven like a sack of flour between herself and Octavia, gin on her breath, and grass in her hair.  Exactly what she did not need.

“Are you going to help us or not?”

“Of course I am, Clarke,” Lexa snapped.  “Move over, you’re doing a terrible job.  Have you been drinking too?”  

Clarke was completely over this entire week.

\---

Normally, Clarke enjoyed the quirks of her school that made things exciting, and set the houses apart from each other.  Normally, it was a super cool concept that the entrances to the house common rooms were based on different qualities those houses possessed.  It made perfect sense that Hufflepuff would welcome anyone who knew their knock, trusting their students to manage themselves.  It also made perfect sense that both Gryffindor and Slytherin would base their security on a frequently changing password system - never quite trusting anyone enough to leave themselves vulnerable.  Ravenclaw, however, could suck it.

“Raven,” Octavia leaned her friend against a wall and slapped her lightly on the cheek.  “Raven, open your door.”  Raven squinted with one eye closed completely and looked confused.  

“Riddle,” Raven slurred, waving a hand towards the door, and Octavia’s shoulders slumped. Lexa was staring intently at the door, head tilted to the side as she reached up to the eagle knocker and tapped it twice.

“ _What always comes, but never arrives?_ ” the door asked.  Raven snorted, her head kicking back to hit against the wall.

“Clarke on a good day, right Lexa?” Raven laughed, and Lexa turned a very nice shade of red.  Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Raven, open your door,” Octavia said again.  She looked like she was ready to push Raven down the spiral staircase they had just struggled up.  Five flights or spiral staircase, with a drunken puddle of Raven, who decided that the third story would be the perfect place for a tickle fight.  

“No, wait,” Raven shook her head.  “I can do better.  Knock again, I’ve got another.”  Lexa reached up to knock again.

“ _What always comes, but never arrives?_ ” the door asked.  Raven took a breath and Octavia clamped a hand over her mouth.  She sent a pleading look Lexa’s way, who looked like she was concentrating very hard.

“Tomorrow,” Lexa said firmly, and the door clicked open.  Raven looked a little put out that her punchline was ruined, but everyone else gathered her up in their arms and marched her inside.  They dumped her on a couch near the fire, and Octavia wasted no time in storming out.

“Storm quietly, O,” Clarke called to her.  It would be just their luck for Lexa to let them off, only to get caught by some overeager Prefect on patrol.  Lexa had her arms crossed and looked more amused than Clarke was comfortable with.

“Is this a glimpse into the reign of Clarke Griffin?” She smirked.  

“Really?” Clarke scoffed at her.  “You just broke into Ravenclaw, Lexa.”  

“You’re welcome,” Lexa shrugged one shoulder.  “I know ‘thank you’ is hard for you.”  Clarke glared at her and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shouting.  “When you make that face, I never know if I’m going to get kissed or punched,” she said.

“Neither do I,” Clarke grumbled, pushing past Lexa to slip out the door.  She didn’t look back as she crept quickly down the stairs and made her way back to Gryffindor, feeling a little embarrassed, and a lot angry.

\---

Abby Griffin’s classroom was a lot like her office - except it did have a smell.  Like hot antiseptic.  It always burned a little, to breathe in her lessons.  But it was exceptionally tidy, and it left you feeling a little stiff, like you shouldn’t touch anything, including the table in front of you, or the chair beneath you.  The classroom was full of a mix of older students - Healing was a popular class for its category, but still firmly considered an elective course.  The students were sat at tables of two, and tended to stick together for practical lessons throughout the year.  Once you found someone you trusted to deliberately injure you in order to learn the healing part of it, you kept them around.

Clarke was not even a little excited to spend the next two hours being judged by her tidy mother beside a very green looking Raven, who was bent over the table, breathing deeply and slowly into the wood.  Abby cast one curious look over at the pair as she swept in, but Clarke just shrugged at her, and she didn’t linger.

“Good morning,” Abby greeted the quiet group of students.  “Today’s lesson should be extremely relevant to your interests.  Reyes, are you well?”  Raven sat up in her seat and gave Abby a lazy salute.  She hadn’t spoken all morning.  Clarke slipped a small flask into her lap under their table and gave her best encouraging nod.  Raven unscrewed the cap and got it halfway to her lips before she blanched and held it as far away from herself as possible, tipping her head back and away.  She was starting to sweat as Clarke grabbed the flask and shoved it back under the table, glaring.  

“Don’t be a child,” Clarke whisper-scolded.

“Is there a problem?” Abby’s stern voice came from the front of the room.

“No, Professor,” Clarke beamed at her, and Abby looked a little concerned, but shook her head and moved on.  

“I should hope not, because today we will be learning how to remove extraneous body parts, and I’ll need everyone’s full concentration.”  Clarke had no idea what that even meant.  What on her body could be considered extraneous?  And who exactly intended to remove it?

“Professor?” One of the Hufflepuffs spoke up cautiously.

“Yesterday, an extremely distraught third year Ravenclaw came to me for assistance.  She had been involved in a house-related disagreement between lessons, and as a result, had grown an impressive, if unwanted, set of tusks.”  There were scattered laughs through the classroom, and Abby looked grim.  “Gryffindor would do well to take this lesson seriously.”  Every Ravenclaw in the room was grinning into their books.

“Just drink it, Raven,” Clarke whispered again.  Raven shook her head and made a show of trying not to gag.  Clarke punched her in the shoulder.

“Push your garbage juice on some other sucker, Griffin,” Raven muttered into her lap, eyes closed.

“It’s a hangover remedy, I swear,” she said.  “It’s from Lexa.”

“Oh,” Raven said.  “Fine, give it.”  

“You are obnoxious, do you know that?”

“I watched you fail Potions, Clarke,” Raven shook her head and took a quick swig from the flask when Abby wasn’t looking.  She hunched over immediately and clutched the edge of the table, squeezing her eyes shut and going very still.  Clarke watched her curiously.

“So?  Well?  Come on, did it work?”

“Why would Lexa poison me?” Raven whimpered.  Clarke sighed.

“Damn.  I must be missing something.  You know, she won’t fucking tell me what her stupid recipe is?  She’s making me guess.”  Raven looked betrayed.  And sick.  She looked awful.  

“Reyes,” Abby called from the front of the room, and Raven raised two fingers halfway to her forehead.  “Will you or Clarke be growing tusks today?”

“Clarke,” Raven croaked.  “Clarke will be.”  Clarke sighed and nodded.  She deserved that.  

The lesson, from there out, actually wasn’t terrible.  Even with Raven suffering beside her, it was pretty smooth sailing up until the practical portion.  Abby called on a very hesitant volunteer to demonstrate at the front of the room, and Clarke felt like she had a good grasp on the concept - and, Raven being her regular practice partner, wasn’t terribly worried about her own well-being.  Raven was a little cavalier with her experiments, but she wasn’t usually a danger to others in a classroom.

“Alright,” Abby clapped her hands once.  “Pair up and give it a shot.  Step one: grow something from nothing.  Step two: Get rid of it.  Simple.”

“Raven,” Clarke nudged her when she continued to stare vacantly towards the front of the class.  “Raven, come on.”  Raven nodded slowly to herself and pulled her wand from her pocket.

Except it wasn’t her wand.  

It was Clarke’s old, broken wand.

“Fuck,” Clarke breathed, and Raven looked down at her own hand wide eyed and panicked.

“Fuck,” Raven agreed softly.

“We have to switch,” Clarke said.  Abby appeared in front of their table, and Raven dropped her hand to hide the wand beneath it.  Abby had her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, and she just stood there until the girls in front of her began to fidget.

“Problem?” Abby asked Raven specifically, and Clarke shook her head.

“No problem,” she said brightly, a little too loudly.  

“Because if there is a problem, I’d prefer it if you told me now,” Abby continued speaking to Raven.  “Before my daughter grows anything permanent.”  Clarke actually felt herself pale.

“No problem,” Raven rasped, and Abby nodded at her slowly and moved to the next set of students.

“You can’t,” Clarke yelped as quietly as possible.  “Raven, you can’t.”

“I can’t tell her about the wand, Clarke,” Raven shook her head.  “It’s against the rules, she’ll confiscate it.”

“So I have to _grow something permanent?_ ”

“Don’t be dramatic, that’s probably not even a thing,” Raven dismissed.  “It’s magic, Clarke.  Like, literally.”  Raven lifted her arm and pointed the wand at Clarke’s face, who jerked back just before the tip of it started to steam.  Raven was watching it curiously, and Clarke pushed the wand down and away from her.   “That’s odd.”

“You’re going to melt my face,” Clarke hissed, drawing her own wand from her robes.  “You have to use my new wand.”

“Using someone else’s wand is wildly unreliable, Clarke,” Raven frowned at her, but took it, nodding very slightly.  “Okay, yes, you probably have a point.”  She cleared her throat and pointed Clarke’s new wand at the corner of Clarke’s mouth before, saying the appropriate incantation clearly.

Clarke knew, after that, that electrocution was not something she’d like to ever revisit.

\---

Sometimes, Clarke found boarding school life to be incredibly tiresome.  Did everyone really need to eat all of their meals together, every day?  Sure, you could go directly to the kitchens if you befriended the right house elves, but repeated absences tended to result in a loss of house points - and Gryffindor certainly couldn’t handle any more of that.  Clarke was not having a great couple of weeks, and this meal, this dinner, was going to be the cherry on top of her shitshow sundae.

She sat surrounded by her teammates at the Gryffindor table this evening, all staring silently down at their plates, ignoring their friends’ calls and their normal seating arrangements.  They were a team - they’d go down together, and they would accept the decision quietly.  Clarke’s attempts to reverse the disqualification had so far been disappointing, but a rowdy group of belligerent athletes would definitely seal the deal.

Though, the team actually took the news better than she had anticipated when she sat them down this afternoon.  Only one person punched a wall, and they only broke two knuckles that she had to heal.

Headmaster Jaha cleared his throat from the head table and nodded in greeting when the Great Hall quieted.  He listed a few accomplishments and handed out a few congratulations, he awarded Hufflepuff 20 extra house points for exceptional sportsmanship.  The announcement of Gryffindor’s disqualification was met with complete silence.  Clarke sat with her back straight, pressed very tightly between her teammates, all eyes firmly on the plates in front of them, and it was completely silent.

She was very deliberately not watching as more than one hundred faces turned to stare at her in shock.  She was not watching Raven get to her feet and walk slowly to the Gryffindor table, leaving a group of very uncomfortable looking Ravenclaws behind her.  She did, however, hear the low rumbling of students breaking into incredulous murmurs.

“Ladies,” Raven nodded as she planted both palms on the table beside Clarke.  “Listen,” she licked her lips.  “No big deal, nobody make a scene, but I’m going to need all of you to evacuate immediately.”  Clarke finally raised her eyes from her empty plate.

“Go back to your table, Raven,” Clarke said evenly.  “We’re not looking to start any more trouble.”

“Right,” she said.  “That’s sort of what I’m trying to avoid.”  Her smile looked physically painful.

“Raven,” Octavia snapped.  “Not now.”

“Okay, I’m not going to ask you again.”  Raven looked panicked now.  “I’m serious, I can’t turn it off.”  Well, that definitely wasn’t what Clarke wanted to hear as she was trying to keep a low profile.  Clarke stood to face Raven just as the table beside her started to rattle.

“What -” Raven tackled her to the ground as the platters of food that had just appeared exploded, spraying Gryffindor with chicken and pumpkin juice, and startling a cry from the entire hall.  Clarke was trapped beneath a very still Raven, and would have thought the snow falling from the animated Great Hall ceiling was a cute touch if it wasn’t actually mashed potato.  Around them, Gryffindor deteriorated.  Their shock at having their dinner attack them lasted just long enough to notice Ravenclaw collectively pale, and when Octavia grabbed a smaller student, who was attempting to sneak out of the hall, by the neck, all bets were off.  Gryffindor launched a full scale attack on Ravenclaw, while Slytherin and Hufflepuff tried to catch up on what exactly was happening.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clarke gasped, tossing Raven to the floor and struggling to her feet.  

“It was a prank,” Raven had to shout over what was quickly becoming a riot.  Dozens of sticky Gryffindors had their wands pressed against their blue classmates, looking to Octavia for further example.  It never ended well for Gryffindor when Octavia was leading the charge.  “It wasn’t - we didn’t -” Raven was still on the floor, and Clarke had to stun two of her own classmates before she looked to Lexa for an authority to step in - but Lexa had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as she stared through the crowd directly at Clarke.  Yeah.  This was a great example of leadership.  Damnit.

Clarke had Octavia’s wrist twisted and held up against her back before this could get any worse, and she held her wand to her own throat as she stumbled up onto a table, Octavia held hostage in front of her.  “ _Sonorus_.”  

She took a shaky breath and cringed when it echoed through the hall.  “Knock it off,” Clarke barked, and every single person in the room flinched at the volume.  “Gryffindor, drop your wands before I do it for you.  I expect better from all of you,” she jostled Octavia in front of her, who grumbled but didn’t fight back.  “I will see every one of you in the Gryffindor common room in 10 minutes,” she growled.  “You can follow Octavia.”  She shoved Octavia away from herself and stood alone on the table as she watched grumpy, frustrated Gryffindors break away from their fights and drag their feet towards the door.  She nodded and took a deep breath, glancing over to Lexa before she could stop herself.  Lexa was staring back at her, totally impassive, arms crossed.  Anya stood at her side, grinning flat out.  “For fuck’s sake,” Clarke sighed to herself before realizing she hadn’t ended the Sonorus charm.  

\---

“ _Futuere_ ,” Clarke scowled at the very bored looking Fat Lady, who huffed and swung open without a word.  Clarke almost laughed.  “Really?” she snapped.  “You really don’t remember me?”

“Of course I do, dear,” the portrait hummed, and Clarke rolled her eyes, climbing into the common room with low spirits and an exceptionally foul temper.  She was greeted by a completely packed room, every single Gryffindor present and very serious.   They piled on couches, and staggered up stairs, shoulders pressed against each other, staring quietly at Clarke.  At the front of the group stood Octavia, and Clarke really didn’t like when Octavia was in charge.

“Are all of you crazy?” Clarke snapped at the crowd, ignoring the weight settling in her stomach.  “Do you think that _helped?”_

“Griffin,” Octavia greeted with a nod as she stepped toward her steadily.

“And you,” Clarke breathed through a laugh.  “Are you kidding?”

“I know you don’t want this.  But you’re our leader, and it’s time to step up.”

“Let’s not start pretending that you listen to me now, O.”

“Gryffindor no longer recognizes Woods as our Head Girl,” Octavia ignored her.  Clarke felt prickly all over, and knew a red wave was creeping up her neck.  The weight in her stomach dropped a few inches as the crowd rumbled in agreement as Octavia continued, “We recognize you.”

And Clarke - Clarke didn’t really know how to respond.  She was still fuming from the Great Hall brawl, and was a little overwhelmed to actually feel her house climb up her back and perch on her shoulders.

“I’m just a prefect,” she said.

“Don’t you agree that we have been treated unfairly?”

“Of course I do.”

“And that the school shows no interest in hearing our voices?”

“Well, yes, they do seem a bit biased,” Clarke nodded. The crowd behind Octavia got a little louder after each question, and, you know, they had a point.

“And is our current Head Girl planning on taking action on our behalf?”

“No,” Clarke said.  Octavia was making a lot of sense with a supportive crowd at her back.  The tension in the room was growing, and Clarke knew that as soon as it snapped there would be no stopping it, but she wasn’t actually sure she wanted to.

“We need a leader who believes in us,” Octavia said, and this was all getting very serious and cliche, and Clarke wanted to point it out, but she found herself swept up in Gryffindor’s collective excitement.  They _did_ deserve that, after all.  Nobody was looking out for them, and while a lot of their punishments were sort of justified, the whole school being able to blame any wrongdoing on Gryffindor without question was getting out of hand.

“You want a voice,” Clarke said.

“You’re the only one who can give us one,” Octavia nodded.

“We’ll never get Quidditch back if we revolt.”

“Fuck Quidditch,” Octavia spat, and every single person in the room gasped.  “There are more important things than Quidditch.”

“We can do this, Griffin,” shouted a voice towards the back of the room.  A cheer rang through the common room, and Clarke felt all of them shift their frustration and hope over top of her, and she struggled to breathe against its weight.  The room quieted as everyone waited for Clarke’s response.

And wasn’t this what Lexa was talking about?  Her housemates needed someone to look out for them.  Clarke could be a leader who fought for real, positive change.  This wasn’t about what Clarke wanted - it was about what her people needed.  And you know what, fuck Lexa for thinking she wasn’t up to the challenge.  Gryffindor would follow her, and she could keep them in line long enough to make Hogwarts hear them.  This was the house of the brave - the courageous.  She could do this for them.  She took a breath as she made eye contact with everyone she could see.

“We can do this,” she agreed, and her voice shook only a little, and she would blame the aftereffects of the Sonorus charm later.  The crowd in front of her cheered, and Octavia’s face broke into a grin.

“Atta girl, Griff,” she said.

“We can do this,” Clarke said louder.  “But you need to listen to me.  I won’t have another night like tonight.  I won’t have fights in the corridors or Ravenclaws with tusks.”  The room was silent now, and most people looked appropriately shamed.  “We’re better than that.  And we’re better than how we’ve been treated.  Now we’re going to show that to everyone.”

“To the Gryffindor Head Girl!” someone shouted, holding up a bottle of something Clarke already knew she wanted no part of.  She was slightly annoyed that their first response to their new behavior guidelines was to start a party, but so long as nobody left the tower, Clarke figured they’d be okay.

She only let Octavia talk her into three drinks before she slipped out of the portrait hole and broke her own rule.

\---

She found herself in the dark tunnel that lead into the Slytherin common room before she had a chance to really think about what she was doing - and probably the only reason she was shocked back into her body was that Anya was currently blocking the entrance like a sentry.  Her arms with crossed and feet were planted, and Clarke didn’t know how long she had been waiting there, but it annoyed her that she was so predictable.

“No,” Anya said from the doorway.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Clarke said, but Anya just adjusted her feet and pursed her lips.  “I need to talk to Lexa,” she tried.  When she got nothing, she continued, “Get out of the damn way, Anya.”

“No.”

She punched her.

Clarke _punched_ her.  And while it didn’t take long for Anya to recover and knock her off her feet, she did take the time to bask in the feeling.  Maybe Octavia wasn’t all wrong.  She felt pretty good to see a bit of blood dripping from Anya’s nose even as a knee pressed into her chest and a hand wrapped around her throat.

“I have been waiting years for this,” Anya breathed.

“Dramatic,” Clarke wheezed, and then brought her knees up quick to crash into Anya’s hips and knock her off balance.  They scrambled on the ground, fingertips catching on joints and knees jabbing into muscle, until Clarke landed one more solid hit before taking a elbow to the face.  She fell back against a wall, breathing heavy and holding her face.

“Nice,” Anya grunted across from her.  There was a bruise blooming on her cheek and blood dripping over her lips.  Clarke just nodded.  They sat together until their breathing evened out, and then Anya brushed herself off and strode back into her common room without a word.  She left the door open behind her.

Alright.

\---

The door to her bedroom crashed against the wall, and Lexa looked up to find a blonde thundercloud, scowling at her and dripping blood onto her white collar.  Lexa scrambled off her bed and ran her fingers across the bruise forming on Clarke’s cheek.

“What -” she started, before Clarke’s lips crashed against hers, and the door was kicked shut behind them.  Clarke walked her backwards towards the bed, fingers scrabbling against buttons, and tugging at hems.  Lexa let herself be led, and helped as much she could before Clarke pressed her into the mattress, and she had to stop and try to catch her breath.  The stack of assignments she had been working on fell behind the bed, and her wand bounced across the floor.  Clarke swung a leg over her hips and Lexa gasped as Clarke’s hand ran down the side of her ribs and across her stomach to tug at the button on her trousers.

“Clarke,” she breathed, which only seemed to spur Clarke on.  “Clarke,” she said again, a little stronger, a little more like an actual word rather than a whimper, and she pushed on Clarke’s shoulder until she pulled back enough to make eye contact.  “What’s going on?”

Clarke’s eyes were cloudy and a only a little blue around the edges, but Lexa held her there until she shook her head and said, “ _please.”_

_Yes,_ was Lexa’s answer, though she didn’t voice it.  Instead, she set to work on the buttons of Clarke’s shirt.   _Of course,_ was Lexa’s answer, as Clarke dragged her lips along her ribs, moving slowly, steadily lower.  Clarke’s fingers were tight on her hips, and she knew she was leaving bruises, but she couldn’t loosen her grip on the girl below her.  And from the sounds Lexa was making, it didn’t seem like she wanted her to.

Later, when Lexa was still catching her breath and Clarke was deciding how long she’d have to wait before they could start again, she felt Lexa wrap her fingers around her wrist and drag her attention back up to find a concerned, if slightly sweaty expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asked, and Clarke lowered her lips to Lexa’s hip bone.

“I love these,” Clarke said, and Lexa sighed into it.  She skimmed her fingertips across Lexa’s lower belly and smiled when she shivered.  “I love this,” Clarke breathed as Lexa’s back arched very slightly off the mattress.  Clarke let her fingers skip lower still, whispering praise into Lexa’s skin as she felt fingertips grip gently against her scalp.  

\---

Clarke woke with a deep breath that tickled her nose, and opened her eyes to the top of a curly brown head tucked firmly under her chin.  She didn’t make a habit of falling asleep in Lexa’s room - it called too much attention to her presence when she had to march out alongside Slytherins on their way to breakfast.  But every muscle felt loose, and her chest didn’t seem so tight, and she took another breath that filled her with the scent of Lexa’s shampoo, and she wanted this every morning.

Lexa hadn’t asked questions the night before, but Clarke knew she owed her an explanation.  She gently unwrapped Lexa’s arm from around her waist and slipped out from under her as smoothly as possible.  Her feet had just hit the floor when she felt the sheets tug at her hip.

“You’re leaving?” Lexa suppressed a yawn and turned her face just enough that the pillow wasn’t smothering her.

“Shit.  You’re awake.”

“You’re leaving.”

“No.  I mean, yes, but not.  Permanently.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know that thing where one person wakes up and the other isn’t there, but then they show with breakfast?  But you’re awake.”

“So you wanted to lower my expectations when I realized you had snuck out on me, so you could exceed them when you came back,” the corners of Lexa’s mouth turned up very slightly.

“I - no, I -”

“When really, the bare minimum was to have stayed the night after confessing your love to get into my pants.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t _confess my love._ ”

“You didn’t?  Did I dream that part?”

“I don’t know.  Did you?”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clarke crossed her arms and looked away as Lexa rolled onto her back.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke offered.  “I was frustrated.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do,” Clarke said, and then flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.  “I’m coup’ing,” she said to the ceiling.  When no response came, she leaned up on one elbow to face her girlfriend.  “Lexa?”

“I don’t know what that means, Clarke.”

“Gryffindor, they,” she sighed again.  “They elected me.  Appointed me.  I’m their Head Girl.”

“The school won’t recognize it,” Lexa said.  Her voice was flat, unsurprised.  Clarke didn’t like it.

“They don’t care,” she said.  “They deserve a voice, Lexa.”

“So, last night.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said again.  And then, “No, I’m sorry.”  She cringed and closed her eyes.  “It doesn’t - it didn’t have anything to do with that -”

“The coup,” Lexa interrupted helpfully.

“Yeah, that, it didn’t -”

“What are your grievances?”

Clarke paused.

“What?”

“Gryffindor is revolting against the current power structure.  I would like to hear your grievances.”

“I,” Clarke stuttered again and stopped.  “Can we do this when I’m wearing a bra?”

“No,” Lexa sat up, and Clarke did everything she could to not let her eyes drop to her chest.

“Lexa, I don’t have a formal statement prepared.”

“Actions before words,” Lexa nodded.  “How very Gryffindor.  I’m sure they’d be proud.”

“Stop it,” Clarke snapped.  “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You didn’t prevent it,” Lexa snapped back.  They both paused, avoiding eye contact and very deliberately covering up.

“You should have let me get breakfast,” Clarke said.

“You’re late for Healing anyway.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

\---

Abby was not amused as she met her frazzled daughter at the door to her classroom.  Clarke was out of breath and running her fingers through her tangled hair as she stared at anything at anything that was not a teacher and tried to brush past her at the door.

“Another fifteen seconds and you would have been locked out,” Abby said as she stepped in front of Clarke.

“Good timing, then,” Clarke nodded to the floor.

“Clarke,” Abby waited for her to lift her eyes.  “One more tardy, and you’re out of the class.”  Clarke’s mouth fell open in surprise, and Abby continued, “And get it together, Clarke.  You are neither Slytherin nor Head Girl.”  Clarke looked down to find Lexa’s sweater covering her red tie, Head Girl badge pinned high on her chest.

“Fuck,” she breathed.

“Yes,” Abby agreed.  “Now, take your seat.”

Clarke moved into the classroom and tried to ignore Raven’s open laughter.  She elbowed her as she took her usual seat, and Harper spun around in her seat to lean over Clarke’s table.

“Seriously, your first act as Gryffindor Head Girl is to bang a Slytherin?” She hissed.

“Shut up,” Clarke said.

“Gryffindor what?” Raven asked.

“Nothing.”

“Head Girl.  We’ll make them hear us,” Harper said.

“Are you kidding?”

“Shut up,” Clarke said again.

“And you spent last night with Woods, after starting a revolution?” Raven was grinning.

“It’s not a revolution.”

“It is,” Harper argued.  Raven sat back in her chair and laced her fingers together behind her head.  

“And so now you’re sleeping with the enemy.  For real this time,” Raven laughed.

“Was it a power play, at least?” Harper asked.  “Strike while she’s flat on her back?”

“Don’t be shitty,” Clarke scolded.  “And shut up.  We’re here to learn.”

“Well, I’m glad someone thinks so,” Abby said from the front of the class, and Clarke felt herself blush.  “Wands out,” Abby continued.  Clarke waved her hands at Harper to turn back around and leave her alone.  Next to her, Raven was still grinning.

“I really love being your friend,” she said as Abby launched into her lesson.  “Have I told you that?  Love.”

\---

The door was locked.  Well, more than locked.  It was sealed.  There was no handle, no seam; the tunnel just ended.  Clarke stood, hunched over in the dark in front of the perfect dead end for longer than she cared to admit.  Finally, she turned and made her way back to the kitchens.  She ignored the house elves’ calls and trudged through the castle towards Gryffindor, and everything about the day felt a little anti-climactic.  She knew who was responsible for sealing the secret entrance, of course.

Well, not of course.

She couldn’t decide who had more of a motive to keep her out of Slytherin: her mother, or Lexa.  She was seventy percent sure it was her mom, though.  Maybe sixty-five.  Enough percent to turn on her heel and make her way to her mother’s office instead of her bedroom.  Honestly, the perks of having a parent on staff were really oversold to her when she was eleven.  She’d never really thought about the fact that her mother could cockblock her.

She pushed through the door to Abby’s office without knocking, ready to launch into a lecture on the importance of boundaries, and stopped short as soon as she raised her eyes from the floor.  Lexa was sat in the chair across from Abby, and both turned to stare at her expectantly.  Clarke’s teeth clicked together as her mouth snapped shut.

“Clarke,” Abby greeted curiously, but not sternly.  

“Hey,” Clarke said.  She forgot what she came to yell about.  

“Do you need something?” Abby pressed.  “Ms. Woods and I are almost finished.”  

“Um,” Clarke’s toe scuffed the ground in front of her, and her arms swung slightly, and she hated herself.  “No,” she decided.  “No, I’ll come back.”

“Actually, this concerns you as well, Clarke,” Lexa spoke up, and Clarke’s mind raced through every possible topic that Lexa and her mother could be discussing, which - which wasn’t a line of thought Clarke was totally comfortable with.

“I think this is best discussed with Clarke and her head of house,” Abby disagreed.

“Which one of you sealed the kitchen entrance?” Clarke blurted, finally remembering what had her marching across the castle in the first place.  Her mother raised her eyebrows and sat back in her chair, and Lexa just sighed.

“The entrance was a liability,” Lexa said.  “You said so yourself.”

“It was you?”

“Not entirely.  It wasn’t not me.”  

“I can’t believe you.  We have one fight, and you permanently alter the castle?”  Abby cleared her throat, but neither girl heard her as Lexa stood up from her chair.

“You used me.  Quite literally.”

“I apologized,” Clarke said, but her voice was significantly smaller.  Abby cleared her throat again, louder, and both girls blushed and looked away.

“As interesting a look into my daughter’s personal life as this this, I think this is best discussed somewhere that is not my office,” she said.  Both girls nodded and made their way to the door.  “Clarke,” Abby called before the door could be shut, and Clarke paused without looking back.  “Please make time to see me tomorrow.”  Clarke nodded to her shoes and shut the door behind her.  Lexa was halfway down the hall before Clarke looked up, and she cursed and jogged after her.  She caught her wrist, and Lexa yanked it out of her grasp, but stopped walking.

“I’m _sorry,”_ Clarke said again.  “I don’t know what else to say. It wasn’t about that.  The timing - it was horrible.”

“Yes,” Lexa agreed.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Perhaps we should set up a meeting with your head of house.”  

“I uh,” Clarke said.  “I don’t really see how he could help.”

“Hogwarts’ authority structure will be undergoing a shift,” Lexa explained stiffly.  “I will remain Head Girl, but each house will elect a delegate to represent them in official school meetings.  I will take the concerns of each house under consideration in all decisions, moving forward.”  Clarke was silent.  “I imagine you will act as Gryffindor’s ambassador.”  Clarke nodded slowly, and Lexa sighed.  “We will meet with the Headmaster tomorrow to make it official.”

“That’s why you were in my mother’s office.”  Lexa nodded.  

“While I do not agree with your methods, I am not blind to the need for change,” Lexa continued.

“I know.”

“Good.  Goodnight, Clarke.”

“Wait,” Clarke shook her head.  “Are we okay?”  Lexa turned to face her directly for the first time this evening.

“I’m going to need a minute,” Lexa said.  “I believe you that it was not a play.  But I’m just going to need a minute.”

“Okay,” Clarke nodded.

“I will see you tomorrow, Clarke.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah."

\---

It turned out, student government was incredibly boring.  Sure, Clarke got a fancy title (though not quite as fancy as Gryffindor Head Girl), but the weekly meetings with her fellow ambassadors stretched on for hours into the evening, and they hardly ever discussed anything worthwhile.  Clarke had her feet kicked up on the table and was slowly charming the Hufflepuff ambassador’s shoelaces together under the table while they went through their top concerns, house by house.  Lexa was sprawled in her chair at the head of the table wearing a mask of indifference that Clarke knew was actually boredom.

“And finally,” Raven ticked one more finger down, leaning forward heavily on her elbow.  “Ravenclaw would like to petition for unrestricted access to the Restricted Section.”  Lexa scoffed, and Clarke had to hide her smirk behind a hand.

“It would not be very aptly named, then,” Lexa said.

“This is a _school,”_ Raven argued.  “What is the point in hiding information behind a curtain?”

“No,” Lexa said simply.  “Hufflepuff?”  

“Hufflepuff would like to contest certain instances of disciplinary action, when the parties involved are just supporting their friends,” the ambassador from Hufflepuff read from a card in front of them.  “Loyalty shouldn’t be discouraged.”  Lexa raised an eyebrow.

“No,” she said again.  “Gryffindor?”  Clarke looked up from the Hufflepuff’s shoelaces quickly and shoved her wand in her pocket.

“Gryffindor’s good,” she said.

“Nothing at all?”  Lexa’s brow furrowed a little in surprise, and Clarke shook her head.  “Very well.  Until next week.”  She nodded at all of them and stood up, shuffling papers and waiting for the room to clear.  Raven punched Clarke in the shoulder on her way out, and the Hufflepuff let out a shout as they tumbled to the ground as soon as they stood from their chair.  They shot a glare Clarke’s way, who shrugged innocently at them, before retying their shoes and marching out of the room.

“Do you need something?” Lexa asked when Clarke made no moves to exit, and Clarke nodded.  Lexa’s back hit the wall behind her before she could continue, and Clarke pressed against her until she could feel the pulse humming in Lexa’s throat.

“This suits you,” Clarke murmured into Lexa’s neck, just below her ear.  Lexa hummed, dropping her head back against the wall as Clarke pressed her lips to her.  “The power, the authority, you’re made for this.”  Lexa spun them so that Clarke was pushed up against the wall now, and held her wrists to keep her from moving.  She bit into Clarke’s collarbone until she stopped wriggling against her.

“I knew that’s what this was about.”  Clarke felt Lexa’s lips smiling against her skin.  “If you just wanted me to push you around, you didn’t need to start a revolution,” Lexa said, and Clarke rolled her eyes.  

“Don’t bring politics into this, Lex,” Clarke sighed as Lexa’s hand slipped under the hem of her sweater and dragged across her hip, just above the waistline of her skirt.

“I believe you did first,” Lexa said.

“Shut up,” Clarke breathed, and Lexa, for once, listened.

\---

“I need you to get your girlfriend to let me into the Restricted Section,” Raven said as she climbed onto the bench next to Clarke at the Gryffindor table.  The Great Hall was still filling slowly for dinner, and Raven gestured for some of her classmates to go on to their table without her.  She reached over and grabbed a chicken leg from Clarke’s plate and took a big bite before returning it.

“Sure, help yourself,” Clarke muttered, elbowing Raven in the side to give her some space.

“Seriously, I need an in, I’m close to a breakthrough.”

“You asked her yourself already,” Clarke shook her head.

“Yeah, but I don’t take her pants off.”

“I should hope not,” Octavia laughed as she sat down across from them.  “How’s the new regime going, anyway?”  Raven shrugged.

“It’d be a lot more productive if Griff here would back me up sometimes.”  Clarke shrugged, and heaped a portion of potatoes onto her plate.  

“I’m frankly surprised you wrangled an ambassador title at all.”

“I’m extremely intelligent, Octavia.”

“You made the goblins give you your entire withdrawal in knuts for our first Hogsmeade weekend so you could make dick jokes all weekend.”

“That joke is solid,” Raven argued, and Octavia nodded noncommittally before turning to Clarke.

“Listen, I need you to get Gryffindor Quidditch back sooner rather than later,” she leaned an elbow on the table and pointed a finger across at Clarke.

“I’m working on it,” Clarke said.

“We started a revolution for you, Clarke, can’t you just do me this one solid?”

“Excuse me?” Clarke put her fork down.

“I get that the new system is supposed to foster inter-house relationships or whatever, which I guess is helping our original goal, but Quidditch, Clarke.  You’re our captain!”

“Oh,” Clarke said.  “I’m sorry, I thought I was talking to Octavia “Fuck Quidditch” Blake for a second there.  I didn’t realize all of that was just words to get me to play along.”

“Well, they were,” Octavia said as she grabbed at platters of food in front of her, and pushed Raven’s hands away from the dinner rolls.  “Get your own food, Reyes.”

“Inter-house relationships,” Raven snapped.  “You have to let me eat here.”

“Look around, you’re the only lost Ravenclaw I see in the Hall.”

“Is there room for a lost Slytherin?” Lexa’s voice came from behind Clarke, who almost choked on a potato.  She gestured to the empty seat beside her, and Lexa climbed over the bench and settled close enough to Clarke that their shoulders bumped.  The hall went quiet, for a second.

“Uh,” Octavia said.  “Woods,” she nodded.

“Blake.”

There was a stillness in the Hall as every single person tried to remember a time that a Slytherin had sat voluntarily at the Gryffindor table.  Lexa ignored them and filled a plate in front of her.

“I just need one book,” Raven finally shouted, and Lexa shook her head.

“I said no, Reyes,” Lexa said with a smile.  Clarke could feel the entire Hall let out a breath, and the sound of platters dragging across tables and knives against plates filled the room again.  A few Hufflepuffs moved to the Gryffindor table, and even a Slytherin or two moved over to Ravenclaw.  Clarke kicked her shoe against Lexa’s ankle.

“Yes, okay,” Lexa nodded to her.  “This was a good idea.  Ambassador.”  Clarke grinned through her entire dinner.

She grinned through her entire walk to the Slytherin common room, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this took so much longer than I thought it would, but I hope you guys thought it was a little funny.  
> As always, come talk to me at [smallamountsofmonster](http://smallamountsofmonster.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> This was pretty much the most fun. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @smallamountsofmonster


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